Soul of the Stars: Switch Flipped
by skysinger
Summary: All of your training - everything you've been through, really, from your childhood to Akuze to ICT - has led to this. You know you're ready. It's everyone else you're worried about. First of three stories covering the span of the series. Eventual FemShep/Liara.
1. Chapter 1

You're on shore leave outside Vancouver when you get the call.

It's not like you to spend your free time on Earth - it makes you feel weird, off-balance. You joke with your crew that it's because you're allergic to any gravity that isn't artificial, and that prolonged time without inertial dampers makes you sick. Easier to make a joke of it than try and figure out why you take every opportunity you can to get off your homeworld, the world you swore to protect with your life a decade ago.

You didn't have a choice this time. Alex is groundside, and you haven't seen him in years. Not since...well. Not for a long time.

He hasn't changed. Not really. He's older, darker, rougher around the edges and sporting a longer haircut, but he's got the same smile, the same dark eyes, the same big laugh. You remember those eyes watching you worriedly as you recovered after Akuze. He'd been on the Citadel with his team, and was able to stop by. Talking with him was probably the only thing that kept you together.

A pang of guilt washes through you as you watch him now, sitting in his chair with a beer in hand, skis stuck haphazardly in the deep snow next to him. Maybe things would be different if you'd been there after Torfan.

"Stop thinking so hard, Shep," he says when he catches you staring. "You'll hurt yourself."

You shift your own beer between your hands and grin. "Pretty rich coming from you."

His laugh is deep and sincere, and your smile widens. You missed this - relaxing, catching up with an old friend. Letting your guard down and just being yourself. It's not something you let yourself do often. It's not something you can afford to do.

"So, you gonna stay dirtside with me?" he asks, leaning back in his chair and running a gloved hand through his dark hair. He gestures out at the view from your spot outside his cabin with his bottle, to the snow-covered mountains, gleaming almost painfully white in the bright sun. Off to your side, the main slopes are dotted with people, but Alex's hill is empty. "It's no ship, and it sure as hell ain't the Citadel, but I'll be damned if it's not the prettiest place on Earth."

You nod. "It's beautiful here." You haven't been to many places on Earth - and you definitely hadn't ever gone skiing before this week - but you can't help but agree with him. You can understand why he moved out here, after everything.

He watches you for a moment, then shakes his head and takes a drink. "Beautiful, but still not enough to get you to move in with me." You snort and whack his shoulder, and he shies away with a grin. "I know, I know. Ship bound 'til the day you die, or until you finally find a good enough lay to make you settle down."

"Fuck off, Roessler," you don't even try to hide your smile as you sock him in the arm again.

"So...until the day you die."

You roll your eyes and lift your beer toward him before downing the rest. He laughs and follows your lead before tossing his empty bottle into the snowdrift next to the trash.

That's when your omni tools starts beeping, vibrating warm against your skin underneath your gear. You flex to bring up the HI, and frown at the name of the caller.

Alex turns from where he was rummaging through the cooler, fishing out another drink. "Duty calls?"

"Apparently," you mutter before tapping a button to answer. "This is Lieutenant Commander Shepard."

"Shepard," the familiar voice says, "Captain Anderson. Sorry to interrupt your shore leave."

"It's alright, Captain." Business is business, and it's not like you'd ever ignore a call from him. "What can I do for you?"

"I have a proposition to run by you."

"What is it, sir?"

"I'd like you to be my XO."

Your eyes fly open in surprise. Alex looks equally shocked, frozen in place on his way back to his chair. You're taken completely off guard, and you fumble a moment for the right response.

Anderson saves you from having to try. "I've been assigned to a newly-commissioned prototype ship, and given leave to choose my own crew. Given your experience, I can think of no one I'd rather have at my side."

Your mind flies into overdrive, trying to wrap your head around his offer. You've been XO of the SSV Jakarta for two years. Though you've been leading ground teams for years, this was your first time in a naval leadership position. You've done well, but you're shocked that you made it onto Anderson's radar.

When you look back to your friend, he's grinning and cracking open his beer. Fuck yeah, he mouths, and you feel a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"I'd be honored, sir."

* * *

Alex insists on a celebration, even though you'd be perfectly fine staying indoors shooting the shit by his fireplace like you have been most nights during your stay. You have a suspicion that this isn't really for you, though, as you follow your friend into the club.

It was always his dream to command a ship.

The bass thrums through your body, vibrating in your bones and in the hollow of your stomach. Alex grabs two shots from a tray carried by a scantily-clad worker, and offers you one. "Bottoms up, Commander, you're gonna need it!"

You decide to let slide his emphasis on your rank and click your glass to his before tipping it down your throat. The whiskey burns a path to your stomach and you shake your head to get rid of the feeling. Alex whoops and claps you on the back, leading you in the direction of a poker table by the bar.

"Skyllian Five? Really, Alex?"

He shrugs, tapping the bar on his way past and showing two fingers to the bartender. "Figure you're probably getting a raise, being on a special assignment and all. I'll be damned if I don't take advantage of that."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Since when have you ever beaten me at poker?"

A pair of mixed drinks slide onto the counter, and Alex hands you one with a shrug and a wry grin. "No time like the present."

An hour and too many drinks later, you've cleaned house, and no one else bothers sitting down to play. Alex throws up his arms to the crowd around the bar, none of whom pay him any attention. "What, no takers?"

You stack up your chips in the rack at your side, transferring the credits to your tool. "These guys know when to quit. Unlike you," you look pointedly at his lack of chips. He's out at least 200 credits, not counting the tab he's been steadily racking up, but he doesn't seem to mind. He just gives you a silly, drunk grin that makes you laugh.

"C'mon, Roessler," you stand and haul him up by his sleeve, "let's get out of here."

He pulls away. "No way," he slurs a bit. "Not 'til you dance with me."

You freeze. "No, I don't think so…" Your protests are lost in the heavy bass as he drags you out onto the floor.

You're a shitty dancer. He knows it. Everyone knows it. You just kind of move your feet around and hope you don't look like an idiot. It's a testament to your friendship (and how much you've had to drink) that you don't just storm off to a more comfortable spot at the bar, and that you move half-heartedly in time with the music while Alex dances enthusiastically in front of you. It's funny to watch. He's usually so serious, especially since the Blitz; it's good to see him relaxed.

Your mood falters a bit when you realize he could probably say the same thing about you.

"Hey, you," a low voice says in your ear, catching you off guard.

The woman brushes her hand over your shoulder and moves in front of you, grinning playfully as she sways her hips to the beat. You have to remind yourself to loosen up, to keep dancing. "Haven't seen you here before."

Alex whistles loudly around his fingers and makes a crude gesture from where he stands behind the girl. You try and shoot him a dirty look without her noticing. You see his shoulders shaking with laughter after he turns to head back to the bar. Traitor.

"I'm not from around here," you say as she continues to move in time with you. She doesn't seem to mind your dancing skills (or lack thereof), and you definitely don't mind hers. She's much more fluid with her body than you could ever hope to be. You're made for moving through a combat zone, not for moving in a club.

Of course, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Let me guess," she fingers the edge of your blazer curiously, dark eyes sizing you up. By the approving gleam in her eyes, she likes whatever it is she sees. "Last night out before you head back to the big city?"

A corner of your mouth curls up in amusement. "Something like that." Her body brushes against yours, lightly enough to pass off as an accident. You know it wasn't. Suddenly the dance floor feels ten degrees hotter. She's watching you with a raised eyebrow as she dances, waiting for your move. It's a game, all strategy - back and forth, move for move, sizing each other up and responding in kind. You're good at games. This is no exception.

You slide one hand to her waist, pulling her closer. Her approving laugh is almost lost in the music, but her smile isn't, and neither are the arms that wrap around your neck, pressing her body against yours in all the right places.

You think vaguely that maybe going out to the club wasn't such a bad idea after all.

* * *

Going out was the shittiest idea ever.

You're so hung over you can barely see, and you have no idea where you put your damn shoes. Your train back into the city leaves in a half hour and here you are, half-drunk and half-dressed, fumbling around Alex's apartment trying to find your things.

You tried to wake him up by buzzing his omni-tool, but he didn't move. You started throwing shit at him a few minutes ago, and that worked much better. He's in the kitchen, trying to fry up some eggs for breakfast. You peek in as you walk by - he pulled up a chair in front of the stove and is sitting in it backwards, head resting on the back of it as he pokes at the eggs with a spatula.

There - you spot your lost boot where it's stuck under the couch. You sit down gingerly and pull it on, tucking your cargos in carefully and lacing it up tight. You might feel like you got your head stuck in a meat grinder, but you've had worse nights, and you'll be damned if you don't look good for your meetings with the brass later.

The eggs are just as awful as you expected they would be, but the combination of the food and the painkillers you take from the bottle Alex left out in the bathroom makes you feel a bit more human. Human enough to get both of you in his speeder and out to the transit station at the base of the mountain.

You've never been good with goodbyes. They're awkward, and they don't sit well with you afterwards. You've said too many that ended up being final.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder and turn toward your friend, you realize this isn't easy for him, either. It's been a great week, you both picked up just where you left off, but there were signs everywhere - Alex is lonely.

It's not surprising, all things considered. He's infamous within the Alliance, now, the incident on Torfan alienating him from all but his closest friends. He's lucky he got an honorable discharge and not a CAT-6, but you can't say it made any difference to his reputation. By living out here, he's isolated himself further. He didn't say anything about it to you, and you would never ask, but you know you're the first company he's had in a long time.

That makes it harder to leave him behind.

You try and keep your smile light, and hope it doesn't look forced. "Keep my gear in good shape for me, will you? I'll be coming back to use it next winter."

He scoffs, brushing the scruff on his chin with his hand. "Use it? More like ruin it. You almost broke a set of 'unbreakable' rails, Shep."

You shrug innocently. "Not my fault, that's just bad marketing."

His smile finally reaches his eyes. "No, just bad skiing. That tree's never going to be the same again."

You both laugh, and the voice overhead announces last call for your train. You wince, and not just because of your headache. "I should go."

Alex's smile drops, and his dark eyes search yours. You wonder what he's looking for. "Take care of yourself out there, okay?"

You nod. "I always do."

His eyes don't break from yours. "No you don't, Jen." You stand a bit straighter at the use of your first name. "You're a hell of a marine, and this is a big deal. Commanding a ship alongside Captain Anderson…" he waves out his arm for emphasis, "...it's the opportunity of a lifetime."

A lump rises in your throat and you try and swallow it away. You both know it could have been his opportunity, in another life. The thought hangs heavy in the air as you close the distance and give him a hug. He's a head taller than you, and you're surrounded by his warmth and familiar musky smell as his arms tighten around you.

"I'll miss you, Alex." You didn't intend to say it aloud, but you're glad you did. It's the truth. You feel like he should know.

He pulls away, and rubs at the back of his neck. "You know how to reach me, and I'll be right here if you're ever groundside again." His voice is husky and tight. You smile and nod, giving him one last pat on the arm before leaving the terminal.

* * *

Your first few days on base are a flurry of activity, getting all of your paperwork squared away and dealing with the logistics of your reassignment. You sign off the Jakarta to your successor, a transfer in from the SSV Leipzig. He's a good officer with a good head, and he's worked with your old CO in the past. Even so, it still gives you a pang of sadness to leave your crew behind.

You get to meet a few of your new crewmembers before you head out to Arcturus station, where the ship's finishing up its test flights. You're pleased to find them all extremely competent and easygoing. It'll make your job much easier, and much more enjoyable. You end up spending a lot of time with Lieutenant Alenko, the marine detail commander. As XO you'll be working with him a lot, and you're relieved that you get along so well. He's quiet and a bit stiff - you bet they loved him at OCS - but he's a nice guy with an impressive record. You hit it off similarly with the CMO, Dr. Chakwas, after finding out that she served on the SSV Hastings at the same time as both your Uncle Robert and Captain Anderson.

By the time you get to Arcturus Station, you've finished your homework, and your head is swimming with new faces and names. It's a lot of work, getting to know a whole new crew, but you've always preferred to hit the ground running.

The Station always makes you feel a bit bittersweet. It was your home for most of your childhood, and again for a few stretches of your own career. It feels more like a home than anywhere on Earth, at least. You vaguely wonder if your mother is around. Last you heard, the Kilimanjaro was posted somewhere out in the Verge, but that was months ago. You make a mental note to call her sometime to tell her about your assignment.

Your mind continues to wander as you make your way through the familiar halls down to one of the conference rooms. Your first official command meeting is in twenty minutes, and all of the ship's officers will be present. That includes both Alenko and Dr. Chakwas, as well as several other people you haven't seen in person - the ship's navigator, pilot, Chief of Engineering, and Captain Anderson himself.

You've met Anderson before, of course. You remember to this day the first time you ever laid eyes on him. You were sixteen, and he'd just been made CO of your mother's ship. He was standing outside your classroom here on the Station, and tapped your shoulder on the way out. He asked to walk back to the company's wing with you, and he asked you all about your life. At first you were sure your mother had put him up to it, to get him to talk you into the Academy, but it soon became obvious she hadn't - he told you about his own enlistment, and how he'd never regretted a second of it. He was the first adult you told about your dream of joining the special forces and reaching N7. You were worried he'd laugh, but he looked you in the eye and told you to go for it. He gave you a smile and a salute when you got back to the barracks. Later, when you shipped off for basic, he told you he expected an invite to your graduation from ICA.

Five years ago, you made good on that promise. He sat in the front row.

When you hit the switch and enter the conference room, you're not surprised he's already there. You snap to a salute, trying not to let your grin show.

"Good morning, Captain."

"At ease, Commander," he waves you down hastily as he walks over to shake your hand. "Glad you made it out here, it's good to see you again. How have you been?"

"Just fine, sir," you answer honestly. "I've been staying busy."

"You put that cruiser through more missions in two years than it had run the last five combined, I'd say 'busy' is an understatement."

You shrug off his joke with a smile. "No use letting good men get lazy, sir."

He chuckles. "That's the spirit. I have a feeling you're going to love this ship, Shepard."

It doesn't take much longer for the rest of the crew members to arrive. You introduce yourself right away to Lieutenant Adams and Navigator Pressly. Adams served aboard the Tokyo with your mother and Anderson after you left home - he asks after her, and you have to shrug it off with a tin-can response to hide the fact that you don't know. That aside, he's a nice man, and gives you a good impression.

One person's arrival catches you off guard. The door opens to admit a small man with twin braces on each leg and crutches that wrap up his forearms. You hide your frown - he has the clearance to scan in, he's obviously allowed to be here - but you watch him as he moves straight to his seat at the table instead of standing to make introductions like everyone else. Your brow furrows further when you note the insignia on his sleeve. You excuse yourself from your conversation with Alenko and take a seat next to him.

"I don't recognize you, Ace," you say as he unhooks the crutches from his arms, nodding to the pins on his ribbon rack. "You aren't the pilot I was expecting."

He doesn't look up from his work. "It's Joker, ma'am. I'm not the pilot anyone was expecting."

When he doesn't give more of an answer, you sit back and wait. You try again when he's set the crutches aside. "Mind telling me why that is?"

This time, he meets your eyes. "Because the Captain finally realized that I'm the best damn pilot in the Alliance, and no one else is worthy of flying this ship."

Your eyebrows rise at his candid response. "I see." There's a challenge in his eyes, like he's waiting for you to tell him he's wrong. You know better - he must be something else for Anderson to make such a last-minute switch. Eventually, you offer your hand. "I'm Commander Shepard."

He takes it and nods. "Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau."

The meeting goes smoothly. Anderson runs you all through the ship's specs, and you finally understand why nothing about it was put into the documents you received back in Vancouver. The ship is revolutionary. You haven't seen anything even remotely like it before - because there is nothing like it. You're having a hard time believing that the Turian Hierarchy and the Alliance got along for long enough to even talk about ships, never mind collaborating to build one, but you're glad they did.

Anderson wraps up after answering everyone's questions. "I want all of you to report to dock J3 tomorrow at 0600 for a walk through of the ship. The rest of the crew will join us later in the day for some safety debriefs and a mock test flight. Clear?" The six of you all nod.

"Good. Welcome to the crew of the SSV Normandy."

* * *

**_A/N:_**This story is the first of three, covering more or less each game in the series. It's the product of my first NaNo effort this year. I didn't reach 50K - real life got in the way - but I got a good start! Feel free to leave questions/comments here or at my tumblr (skyllian-five). Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

"Arcturus Prime relay in range. Initiating transmission sequence."

You stride up the _Normandy's_ bridge for the helm, and you can feel the rise in your heart rate as Joker's update fills your earpiece.

This is awesome.

You've spent weeks now running drills with the crew and getting used to the ship. There's nothing like putting training into practice, and this shakedown feels...big, somehow.

"Connected. Calculating transit mass and destination. Relay is hot, acquiring approach vector."

The rest of the crew feels it, too. You figure it's hard not to, given your new guest. You step next to the tall, armored turian standing behind Joker, and wonder for the hundredth time why the Spectre is really here.

Officially, Nihlus is the Citadel representative, present for show and little else, chosen for his status and for his race. You don't buy it for a minute. If they wanted a turian, Octavio Tatum would have been more than adequate, especially given the work he put into the Normandy's creation. Spectres have better things to do than stand around on shakedown runs, even on a ship like this one.

This time, Joker relays his instructions over the ship's PA. _"All stations, secure for transit. The board is green, approach run has begun."_ Readings pop up on the HI from across the ship as each section of the crew confirms their status.

Nihilus catches your eye, and you nod in greeting. He returns the gesture before turning his gaze back to the helm, watching closely. You watch, as well.

This is the _Normandy's_ first relay jump, and damned if you're not a little nervous. It's always a little nerve-wracking, leaving so much to chance and the leftover technology of a species 50,000 years dead.

Joker notices you're there, and gives you final confirmation. "Engineering, navigation, and comms are all clear. All stations are secure." You nod to give the go-ahead. He hits the PA. _"Hitting the relay in 3...2...1…"_

There's a small jolt under your feet as the inertial dampers kick in, but otherwise no physical sign of the jump. The blue shift readings on the HI skyrocket, but almost immediately drop back to normal FTL levels. The rest of the readings are beyond you - you can handle the basics, but you're no pilot, especially not on a ship like this.

Joker's hands dance across his controls as he gives report. "Thrusters, check. Navigation online. Comm buoy acquired. Internal emissions sink re-engaged." A small pause, and he smiles proudly. "All systems online. Drift just under 1500 K."

Nihlus nods in approval. "1500 is good. Your captain will be pleased." With that, he turns and walks back toward the CIC.

You step up next to Joker's chair in time to catch him muttering under his breath. "I hate that guy."

"Oh?"

He glances up at you with a stubborn glare. "You remember to zip your fly when you leave the bathroom, that's good. I jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead. That's not good, that's incredible. Besides, who asked for his opinion?"

You roll your eyes, since you know he can't see your face. "Nihlus is a Spectre, and he's here for the Council. He's free to do whatever he wants while he's on board."

"I don't buy that bullshit, and neither do you. Something's going on, and I'm all ready to say 'I told you so' when someone finally comes clean and admits it."

You clap his shoulder on the way out. "If you say so. I'm out to give report to Anderson. Open up comm lines to Alliance command as well as with the 212, if you can find out who's meeting us groundside. Keep me updated."

"Aye aye, Commander."

You walk back through the CIC to the comm room, watching the crew work. You've never seen a group of people work together so seamlessly - Anderson did his job well. He pulled people from across the galaxy, from all seven fleets and several different ground stations, people with backgrounds as diverse as their names and faces, and in a matter of weeks honed them into the perfect crew.

Corporal Jenkins is talking animatedly with Chakwas near the entrance to the comm room. The doctor doesn't look nearly as involved in the conversation, her back stiff and her eyes wandering. You cringe inwardly, sympathetic to her situation. The crew may work well, but some are much less competent than others. Jenkins is one of those few. You've worked with all kinds of marines over the years, and it didn't take you long to have Jenkins pegged. He's chomping at the bit, dying to get his boots dirty, and you know you'll have to watch him carefully when you give him the chance. He did well in drill, but he's itching to "prove himself". In your experience that kind of attitude just gets men killed.

You accept his salute with a nod on your way past, and Chakwas takes the opportunity to slip out of the conversation, beelining for the stairs.

Nihlus is already in the comm room, and he turns when the door closes behind you. "Commander Shepard, I was hoping you'd get here first. It will give us a chance to talk."

You slip into parade rest in front of him, mostly out of habit. "About what, sir?"

"I'm interested in this world we're going to," he says in his deep, flanged voice. He steps off to the side, folding his arms and looking up at one of the room's vid screens. "Eden Prime."

Everything about his demeanor makes you think he's digging for something, but you aren't sure what. "They say it's a paradise. I've never been, so I couldn't say."

"Paradise, indeed. Serene, tranquil, safe," he muses, mandibles twitching. "It's become something of a symbol for your people, hasn't it? Proof that humanity can not only establish colonies, but also protect them. "

"It has, sir."

He faces you, beady eyes searching your own. "How safe is it, really? You are new to the galaxy, only just made aware of its scope. Is the Alliance truly ready?"

You clench your jaw. You're definitely missing something. "Is there something else I should know about?"

The door opens again, and Anderson strides into the room, putting an end to the conversation not a moment too soon. "Shepard, good. I was hoping you'd be here."

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

He waves you down. "Just Anderson, please." You don't normally call him by rank - past experiences and weeks of working at his side have taught you he's not big on formalities - but with Nihlus around you weren't sure if it was appropriate.

He studies you a moment, and you frown at the tightness around his mouth and the shift of his eyes. "I think it's time we tell you what's really going on here."

"I'd appreciate that," you try not to sound too annoyed, "I'm not a big fan of being kept in the dark."

Nihilus responds sternly. "It was necessary, Commander, given the...delicate nature of the situation."

"We've been instructed to retrieve an item from a dig site near the colony," Anderson explains. He pulls up an image on one of the screens using his 'tool. It's some kind of...transmitter, maybe, a tall metal beam standing about five meters high. "It's a Prothean beacon. Not much evaluation has been done yet - Eden Prime doesn't have the right facilities for anything too involved - but basic scans indicate that the amount of information stored inside is massive."

"So, we're moving it to a facility where it can be studied more effectively?"

"And more securely. The last time we found something like this, it jumped our technology forward two hundred years and gave us the key to FL travel. This is big."

"The Council will be contributing to this research, as well," Nihlus adds. "This beacon is important for all of the Council races, not just for humanity."

"Of course," you nod smoothly. He wants to play politician, that's fine - it was a game made for two. "The Council has been good to the Alliance, and the more we work together to figure this beacon out, the faster we can put that technology to use."

Nihlus' mandibles twitch and he hums in agreement. Maybe it's presumptuous - turians are hard to read - but you think he approves of your answer.

Anderson glances at him before turning back to you. "There's also the matter of Nihlus' presence on the ship."

"I'm not here just as a Citadel delegate, Commander," he clasps his hands behind his back, "I'm here to evaluate you."

That's not what you expected.

"The Alliance has been pushing for this for a long time," says Anderson, "a chance to engage further in interstellar policy and have a larger role in Council matters."

"Fair enough," you say carefully, "but I'm not sure what that has to do with me."

Anderson's dark, focused eyes hold your own. "The Special Tactics & Recon division represents the Council's power and authority. With a human in their ranks, not only would it solidify our standing within the rest of the Citadel races, it would put us one step closer to a place on the Council."

It all clicks, and your eyes widen. "You want me to be a Spectre?"

Definitely not what you expected. Never, not in a million years, would the idea have even crossed your mind.

Becoming an N7 was always your goal. When you finally finished training at the villa and earned that title, the plan didn't really change - you figured you'd keep running missions, leading teams, maybe spend some time commanding ships like your mother before either dying in battle or retiring when your body gave out.

It never even occurred to you that there could be more. But...you can't say you dislike the idea.

"You have an impeccable service record, and you're one of only a few hundred people to become an N7 operative," Nihlus explains. He says it all very matter-of-fact, but it still makes you shift your weight uncomfortably. You've never been sure how to respond to a compliment, especially when you're just doing your job. "Record aside, not many people, other races included, could have survived like you did on Akuze. You showed not only your resourcefulness and unique battle instinct, but a remarkable will to live. That's why I put your name forward as a candidate."

You wince a little bit at his mention of Akuze, but don't let the memories resurface and keep your expression still. You have more important things to think about. Like the fact that this cold, brusque turian recommended you to the Council as a Spectre candidate.

"Thank you, sir," you say sincerely, professionally. "I hope I can live up to your recommendation."

"We'll find out soon enough," says Anderson. "Suit up - you'll be leading the ground team on Eden Prime." He gestures to Nihlus. "Nihlus will be accompanying you, for evaluation purposes. He will deflect to your decisions and act as any other member of the crew, and you should treat him as such.

You nod. "Understood, sir."

_"Captain, you there?"_

Anderson's brow tightens in a frown. "What is it, Joker?"

_"We just received a transmission from the 212. You're going to want to see this."_

"Bring it up on screen."

The three of you watch as the video crackles to life on the screen in front of you. It's shaky and terrible quality - someone shot it with their 'tool during a fight, by the looks of it. There's the tap tap tap of rapid-fire pistol shots, and the occasional boom of something higher-caliber. You see soldiers geared up and shooting, ducking, falling - an armored woman yells "get down!" and shoves the makeshift cameraman into cover just as a huge blast rocks the area. The screams that follow make you clench your jaw tightly.

Finally the cameraman speaks. "This is Lieutenant Rader of the 212, we are under attack! We are taking heavy casualties -" he's interrupted briefly by another blast and the wailing screech of bending metal - "I repeat, heavy casualties! We need evac, there's too many -"

A blast of dirt and the camera dissolves into static. The video resumes a second later, focused briefly on...something, a ship, maybe? There's more movement, more gunshots and yells and screams, and then the vid cuts out for good.

_"Rader was our contact on base."_ Joker's use of past tense doesn't go unnoticed. _"There's no comm traffic at all after that, at least not on Alliance frequencies. I have some men in the CIC scanning other channels, but it doesn't look good."_

Anderson studies the screen. "Reverse the video, pause it on that ship."

Joker does so, and in a moment you're looking at...well, you're not sure what. It doesn't look like any ship you've ever seen. It looks more like something out of a kid's nightmare - a disembodied mechanical hand, buzzing with red energy, grasping toward the ground like a great claw. You hear Anderson let out a deep breath, and you feel a tingling in the back of your neck.

_"We're seventeen minutes out, Captain, no other Alliance ships in the area."_ The question, though unspoken, is heavy in his voice.

"Stay on course, take us in fast and quiet." The captain meets your eyes, and he doesn't have to say anything to get you to salute and head out for your locker.

This mission just got a lot more complicated.

* * *

The three of you decide on a small strike team, so fifteen minutes later you're suited up in the cargo hold with Nihlus, Alenko, and Jenkins. The Lieutenant looks stoic as always, but Jenkins keeps rolling his shoulders, adjusting the weight of his plates on his back.

"Okay, team," your voice is low, but firm and sure. It's second nature, putting on your 'command voice', but it gets people to listen. More importantly, it gets people to follow your directions. "We're the muscle, so we're going in hard and fast. We get to the beacon, take care of any hostiles we run into, and get out."

"And survivors?" Alenko asks.

You hate to say it, but the mission comes first. "Secondary objective, Lieutenant. We'll help as we can, but our job is to get to that beacon."

The corners of his mouth tighten, but he accepts your answer. "Aye aye, ma'am."

Jenkins gestures toward Nihlus. "And he'll be coming with us?"

He answers before you get the chance. "I work better alone. I'll be scouting ahead, feeding you reports as necessary."

"Other than that, we're radio silent until we know what we're up against." The two marines nod, and you put on your helmet. "Ready for drop, T minus forty five seconds."

Right on time, Joker lowers the ship down and you make the ten-foot leap from the open cargo hold. Nihlus takes off to the east, toward the dig site, and you head down a trail slightly more north. You pull your assault rifle from your shoulder and gesture for your companions to do the same.

Your earpiece buzzes a short time later. _"This colony was hit hard, Commander,"_ says Nihlus, his voice tinny over the link. _"I haven't encountered any hostiles yet, but the damage is...extensive. Keep your eyes open."_

"Ten-four," you reply.

You reach a curve in the path leading to an open area, and put up a fist to hold your team back. With a quick wave, you settle into the formation you've practiced for weeks - Alenko on point, with you in the middle and Jenkins at your back. You give a nod and tap Alenko's shoulder. Alenko kneels and bends out from cover as you and Jenkins wing out, watching the entire clearing for signs of movement. You and Jenkins kneel behind a nearby boulder, and the two men give you a quick "clear".

That's when things get messy.

Jenkins hops out from behind the boulder, gun at his hip, moving forward. You scramble through the dirt on your knees and grab for him, hiss his name under your breath, but he's out of your reach. As if on cue, five quick shots fire, and he drops to the ground with a strangled cry.

You pop over the boulder, but Alenko's beat you to it. His arm whips out and the two drones are caught in a biotic field, hovering a good fifty meters away. You peg them quickly, and they drop harmlessly from the field when he lets it dissolve. You pause for a beat to make sure they're down before you run to check on your marine.

Alenko appears next to you, but has to good sense not to bend down. He stays standing, pistol raised, standing guard.

Your stomach sinks as you note the three shots that went right past his shields, striking him in the chest and neck. _No, no, no._ His pulse is erratic, fading, he's not breathing. You cover the harsh gash in his neck and reach for a pack of medi-gel from your side. Blood from the severed arteries spills immediately through your fingers, and the hand at your side pauses. You know his injuries are too severe to have any hope of getting him help. "Fuck," you spit out through clenched teeth. Your bloody fist clenches, resting on the dead marine's chest. "_Fuck_".

You grab his shoulder firmly - for remembrance, maybe, or sentimentality. It just feels like the right thing to do - and then let go, rising to your feet. You nod forward, and silently thank Alenko for not pressing you before you continue.

"We'll get him out of here, right, Commander?"

His voice is tight, raspier than usual. You wonder how many soldiers he's lost under his command. "Yes, Lieutenant. When we're done, we'll get him out."

When we're done. The words are bitter in your mouth. You've said it before. Empty words, back then - you were the only one to make it out. Alive or dead.

You hate that it still has such an effect on you.

The screams of thresher maws echo in the back of your head, sending chills down your spine, as you move forward through the green grass of Eden Prime.

* * *

"Do you hear that, Commander?"

You pause, glancing over at Alenko, and listen. Just there - _pop pop pop_, hard to hear over the sound of the wind in your ears. The lieutenant fingers idly at his pistol, feeling at the clip to make sure it's new. "It doesn't all sound Alliance issue, ma'am."

You agree - the deeper sound of an M8 is punctuated with higher-pitched, faster shots from a gun you aren't familiar enough with to place by sound. You wave him on, hugging the rocky border of the small valley and quickening to a jog. "Let's go."

You get to a clearing, not a second too soon. There's a lone marine backed up against a rock, firing desperately at two...robots? Mechs of some kind. They look familiar, like you should recognize them, but you can't. Regardless, your rifle's up and firing without hesitation, and your fire added to the marine's topples them easily.

"Cover me, stay close," you bark at Alenko, who responds with a quick "aye, aye". You hurry down the hill, and kneel next to the exhausted marine.

She's younger than you, and she looks small and worn in her hardsuit. She takes the hand you offer, and you pull her up with a grunt, glancing at the rank on her chest.

"You wounded, Chief?"

She shakes her head, breathing hard, and snaps to a salute. Unnecessary on the field, but some people are just into that, you suppose. You notice she's leaning on the boulder behind her, in such a way that you can tell she's trying not to make it obvious. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams with the 212, ma'am."

You wave her down with a flick of your wrist. "At ease, Williams, I just want a report. Where's your unit?"

Her whole body tightens up. "I...they're dead, ma'am, The geth took them all out. We were on patrol, standard procedure since they moved the beacon...the initial attack took us by surprise, we tried to send out a distress call, but they cut our comms, we got split up...I haven't seen anyone else alive."

Alenko grunts in surprise. "_Geth_? That's what these things are?" He glances down at the metal figure collapsed by his side, nudging it with his toe.

Now you know why they looked so familiar. You've never seen one in person, but the name fits the pictures you've seen before in galactic history. You frown down at the geth thoughtfully. "They haven't been seen beyond the Veil in a hundred years. Why are they here now?"

Before either marine can answer you - it was rhetorical - you meet the gunny's eyes. "I'm sorry about your unit. We'll get you out of here safely, and we'll figure out what's going on here."

"Yes, ma'am," Williams says, her voice more steady. "What can I do to help?" She's doing well, keeping her head. She had to watch while her whole unit got wiped out - you've seen people lose it for less. You can't help but feel a connection to her, that special kind of empathy that so few people can understand.

"I'm Commander Shepard, of the SSV _Normandy_. This is Lieutenant Alenko. You said the beacon was moved?" She nods. "We need to find it."

"They brought it to the port this morning for transport, the tram is just down that -" she's cut short by a feral snarl, somewhere off to her right. Instantly your rifle's up, finger teasing the trigger, eyes scanning the horizon. At the first sign of movement, you squeeze, sending a volley of shot into the vaguely humanoid creature storming in your direction. It takes a few hits in its torso without even slowing, and two in the head before it finally slumps to the ground, falling silent. The sound of your breathing is harsh in your ears.

"Jesus," Williams breathes.

You walk up and examine the creature carefully. It's not geth, but it's definitely not human, either. Its grey, naked body is covered with glowing blue lines, some kind of tech implants tracing through, taking control. The blood leaking from its wounds is thick and dark, heavy and abnormal. Everything about the creature sends shivers down your spine - it's wrong, wrong, wrong.

A glint of silver catches your eye, and your breath catches softly when you find the tags at its neck. They're Alliance issue. You tug them off and stick them in your belt, shoving down the twist of revulsion you feel in your stomach.

You look over at Williams. She won't meet your eyes. You're not sure you would, either, in her place.

"We have to keep going," you hear yourself say, and the three of you continue wordlessly on down the valley.

Your hand strays up to your earpiece. "Nihlus, we have a change of plans. We picked up a marine from the 212, she says the beacon was moved this morning. It's at the spaceport up north of our position."

_"Ten-four. I'm at the transit hub now, I'll go on ahead and meet you there."_

You hesitate for a beat before you continue. "Be careful. It doesn't sit well with me - they shouldn't have moved it without letting Anderson know. It's either really poor communication…"

_"...or it's an inside job,"_ he finishes for you. _"Understood. I'll keep you updated."_

You run into a few stray geth troopers on your way to the transit hub, but never more than two or three at a time. Williams is a good fit, better than - well, she's a good fit. The two of you go in guns blazing, taking down their shields so Alenko can take them out with some well-placed biotics. It's quick, efficient, and keeps you moving forward.

The path breaks out over a ridge...and there it is.

The ship.

Hovering over the distant spaceport like a monster straight from a children's nightmare, it looks even less like a spaceship in person than it did in the choppy 'tool vid. It's all hard black metal and refined curves, sparking with red lightning as it hovers in the air, extremities moving like so many living fingers.

"What is that thing?" Alenko's gruff voice is laced with horror.

"Some kind of ship, a dreadnought maybe. We think the geth came in on it."

You watch it carefully, hypnotized by its alien power, as a cool heaviness settles in your stomach. Whatever that ship is, whatever it holds...you can't imagine what it could be, but it can't be anything good.

You bite the inside of your cheek and adjust your grip on your rifle, gesturing down the hill. "We've gotta get moving. That ship's near the port - if they take that beacon, we've got trouble."

The three of you move quickly, sticking to cover and keeping your weapons ready. Williams takes out a trooper with a few well-placed shots with her rifle, and Alenko slams its accompanying drone into the rocky wall with a swing of blue biotic power. "Clear," Williams grunts, and you continue moving.

You spread out a bit when you get to the transport platform, searching around the piles of crates and shipping containers and watching carefully for movement. You're eyeing the walkway to the tram when Alenko yells for you. "Commander, over here!"

He's bent over a body, slumped on the ground in a pool of dark blue blood. It's Nihlus. "He's dead, ma'am." His eyes are wide, distressed.

You're shocked, too. He's a Spectre for a reason - how did he die here? You're sure he would have contacted you if he'd run into trouble.

The area around him is clean. There's no other bodies, no spent clips, no marks on the surrounding crates indicative of a firefight. You kneel down next to the Lieutenant, studying the turian closely. You note the entry wound, almost hidden under his crest. One shot, low caliber, to the back of the head. You frown - his guns are all still in his pack.

"You came with a turian?" Williams says in disbelief as she walks up to you. "Why?"

There's a crack behind you. In one fluid motion, you grab the pistol at your side and spin to your left, staring down the barrel of your gun.

"Don't - no, don't shoot!"

The man is shaking, half crouched behind a crate, hands raised above his shoulders. "Please," he begs, "please don't kill me."

You lower the pistol just enough that it's not hostile, but you're pissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He keeps his hands in the air, and even from your distance you can see the sweat beading on his balding forehead. "I've been hiding, trying to stay out of the way, stay alive."

"How were you able to stay alive?" You suppose you can't really blame Williams for sounding so accusatory. If this guy made it okay, why couldn't her unit?

"I, uh," he brings down one hand to rub at his neck, "I work back here, and I was...I was behind the crates when the attack started."

Your eyes narrow. "What, loading them?" It's obviously more than that, with how nervous he looks.

"No, I was...look, I got a rough job, okay? I was catching some shut eye, my boss was out so I saw the opportunity."

Williams is livid. "You're alive because you were _lazy_?"

You wave her down, noting the renewed terror in his eyes. Williams lowers the rifle that she probably doesn't remember pulling on him. You remind yourself that chastising him won't get you anywhere. "Ironic as it seems, your laziness is the only reason you're alive."

"Yeah, I guess so." He looks down, and glances over at Nihlus. "Your friend," he offers, "he uh, he got shot by another turian, not too long ago."

"Another turian?" That's not what you expected. "What happened?"

"Your friend, uh, Nihlus?" You nod for him to continue. "Well, he came up here alone, and then this other turian comes out from over there." He points to the far side of the platform. "So Nihlus sees him, and right away puts his gun away, starts asking him what he's doing here on Eden Prime. The guy says he's here as backup, or something. Nihlus turns around, and then boom - he gets shot, right in the back. Never saw it coming. He left that way, toward the spaceport."

"Did this other turian have a name?"

"Yeah, it was, uh," he rubs at his chin, "Soram, maybe? Saram?"

Your stomach sinks. "Saren?"

His eyes light up in recognition. "Saren! Yeah, that was it."

"You know him, Commander?" Alenko sounds surprised.

"Not personally, but I know the name." You look over your shoulder at your squad. "He's a Spectre, too."

* * *

"So let me get this straight. This turian Spectre is the one behind the geth attack?"

Williams is standing in front of you on the tram. She's got her gun up and ready, but she keeps glancing over at you.

"So it would seem."

"But why?"

You shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine. All we know is he's apparently gone rogue, he's probably headed for the beacon, and we're much better off staying out of his way."

That makes her recoil. "Stay out of his way? Sorry Commander, but shouldn't we be trying to take him down?"

Part of you agrees with her, but you don't tell her that. "There's three of us here, Williams, against a Spectre and an army of synthetics. If we run into him we'll do our best, but our mission parameters are clear, and don't involve him unless he gets in our way." Her lips tighten, but she doesn't respond.

The tram slows as you approach the port, and you shift the weight of your armor on your shoulders. "Stay sharp, team, be ready to move."

Something catches your eye as you hop off the tram. You almost pass it by, but Alenko stops you. "Ma'am, does that look like a detonation charge to you?"

You curse under your breath when you bend down to take a closer look - Alenko's right. It's not a design you're familiar with, but you know the basics well enough from your training to know you don't have much time. "Saren knows we're following him, so he rigged the place to blow. A few charges this size would send the entire colony up in smoke." You wave Alenko down. "Can you disarm it?"

He runs his omni-tool over the bomb, casting his tanned face with an eerie orange glow. "I think so, Commander. It shouldn't take me long."

You hear gunfire, and Williams ducks into cover. "We've got hostiles!"

You clap Alenko on the shoulder. "We'll cover you. Get it done, we'll search for other charges. See if you can map the detonator signal, it'll help tell us how many we're looking for."

"Aye aye, Commander."

The geth's attack is much more coordinated this time, and they're in much greater numbers. With Alenko out of the picture, it doesn't take long before you're panting from the exertion of the fight and ducking back to cover to regenerate your shields. Maybe it's just because they knew you were coming, but it seems like the geth have gotten smarter.

Alenko pops around the corner, pointing to the left. "There should be three more charges, up on that ledge." He throws an approaching trooper back six or seven meters with his biotics, and clips another one in the torso with a few shots of his pistol. "We don't have much time, only a few more minutes."

The three of you work your way across the platform, struggling to gain ground. By the time you make it to the next bomb, more geth troopers have arrived, and you and Williams quickly take to cover.

A shot whizzes by you, and you hear it buzz against Alenko's shields. This isn't a good position - he's too open, too many stray shots like that and they'll take him down. You need a distraction.

You slide your rifle over your shoulder and grab the shotgun from the small of your back, eyes scanning the layout of the spaceport and the geth's positions. "Watch my back!" you yell at Williams, and you run out of cover, praying the shield modulator you just bought holds up.

You use the first geth you reach as a shield between you and its friends as you whip the butt of your gun into the side of its head. It snaps to the side, stumbling. You fire two shots into its belly and wrap an arm around its neck before it can fall uselessly to the ground. Using its own momentum to your advantage, you push it into the next trooper that runs toward you, sending it careening backwards. Williams finishes it off with a furious storm of rifle fire, and you're already running forward. Stop moving and you're dead.

The shotgun is death at your fingers as you move through the geth line. They're slowing down, getting sloppier, and you're moving faster than they can keep up. Your heart races from exertion, but your breathing stays steady. This is what you were made for, after all. As soon as one enemy falls, the next is already in your sights, you've already moved to a new location. Your boots are covered with white, greasy slime leaking from the broken machines you leave in your wake.

Suddenly, all of the geth are gone, and the platform is silent.

"Where are those charges, Lieutenant?" You're a little surprised when you turn and see how far down the platform you've gone - probably a good fifteen, twenty meters. Williams is staring at you, gun at her side. "I can take one, Williams can handle watch."

Alenko's already running up to an alcove a bit behind you, where the third charge is sitting. "Forward and to the left, should be in that corner."

You move before he's finished speaking, eyes peeled. The bomb is right where he said it'd be, and you set to work, tapping at your omni tool and searching for the lines of code you need. Now that you're not moving, you're aware of the sweat dripping down your neck, the ache in your arms and legs. Geth are heavy. Your heart is still racing, you can hear it beat in your ears, feel it in your fingers as they move.

Williams and Alenko join you just as you finish, two high-pitched beeps the only sign that the bomb is deactivated. "Okay," you say, pushing yourself up to your feet, "let's keep moving."

"Commander, are you okay?" The words burst out of Williams, like she just can't hold them in anymore. Her voice is filled with concern and awe. "That was…"

You cut her off. "I'm fine, Williams. We gotta keep moving, the beacon should be down on the shipping platform."

It's not that you don't appreciate her concern. You do - it's kind of nice to have people worry, you suppose. But that awestruck look in her eyes makes your skin itch. You just did what you needed to do.

You head down a ramp, and there it is. The beacon's impossible to miss - not only is it taller than the three of you combined, it's surrounded by a soft green glow. It's like an ethereal mist, swirling lazily around the smooth metal beam.

Alenko and Williams make quick work of the two geth standing guard at its base, and when they fall you walk up to the structure slowly. You haven't seen many Prothean relics before - well, aside from the relays and the Citadel, you suppose. Just in museums, places like that. It's hypnotic to look at, and you can feel goosebumps rise on your arms as you watch.

You turn away, tapping your earpiece. "Normandy, we're ready for evac. The beacon's secure at the spaceport, hostiles are cleared out." Behind you, you can hear Alenko and Williams musing about the beacon in muttered voices.

"This is amazing. Actual working Prothean technology."

"It wasn't doing that when I last saw it. Wonder if that turian did something to it."

"I dunno." You can hear the wonder in Alenko's voice. "It looks a little like biotics, don't you think?"

"Yeah...yeah, I guess so."

_"Roger that, Commander, we'll be there in five."_

You scan the area as you cut the connection. Just because there's no geth around now, doesn't mean there aren't more coming. Williams walks up to your side, similarly watching the far ends of the platform.

Alenko cries out, and you whip around. He's getting closer to the beacon - but not on his own. He's struggling against some unseen force that's pulling him in. He digs his feet into the platform but stumbles forward anyway, the beacon glowing brighter the closer he gets.

You sprint towards him, grab him around the waist. You can feel it, that force pulling you closer. It's more than physical. You can feel it in your mind, like if you concentrate hard enough you'll hear its whispers.

It takes all your strength to wrench Alenko away and push him to the side. He falls back, and Williams grabs his arms and pulls him away.

The force is even stronger now. When you turn back to the beacon, all you can see is the bright green light. You put an arm up as a shield, and try as hard as you can to back away. Your boots slip on the metal beneath you, the pull is too much. You can't get any traction. The whispers in your head are louder, incomprehensible but pressing in on your skull like so many squeezing hands, pushing their way into your mind.

The bone-deep chill of fear starts spreading through you. You don't know how to fight this.

Everything goes black.

* * *

There's pain. It's deep inside you, like it's burning through your veins. It settles in your head, behind your eyes, growing and growing, white-hot and blinding.

Flashes of images, thoughts, ideas, feelings, course through your mind. They aren't yours. They're alien, intruding on your space, pushing in where they don't belong. You push back, rejecting them.

They're stronger.

The colors you recognize. Hot reds, ember oranges, yellow streaks burning paths through your memory. Fire, everything is burning, you are burning. There's a metallic taste in your mouth, like an old coin. Like blood. You don't know which. You are screaming, the soundless cry echoing through these images you do not want. They flash by faster than you comprehend, willing you to understand, pushing you to know. You cannot know. These thoughts are not yours.

There's a sound, a deep vibration, so low that you feel it more than you can hear it. It cuts through the visions, cuts through the colors and the voices and the cries, until there is nothing else, nothing but the sound. It's part of you, grinding deep inside, screaming through you for eternity.

_They are coming._


	3. Chapter 3

"Doctor, I think she's waking up."

The words are fuzzy in your ears, like you're hearing them underwater. You squeeze your eyes closed tightly before cracking them open, bringing a heavy hand up to rub your face.

You snap alert when you realize you don't know where you are. Eden Prime, Saren, the beacon…

You try and sit up, but a gentle hand pushes you back down. "Relax, Commander," Chakwas says, her lightly accented voice soft but firm. "No need to rush."

Dr. Chakwas. You're in the med bay, back on the _Normandy_. "The beacon," your mouth is dry, it's like talking around a cotton ball. You lick your lips and try again, a bit louder. "Did we get the beacon?"

Lieutenant Alenko appears at your other side, his dark brow furrowed. "Not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"We have what's left of it, but from what we can tell, it's pretty useless after the explosion."

You try and sit up again, brushing away Chakwas' hand and ignoring her hum of disapproval. "Explosion? Lieutenant, what the hell happened?"

The lines in his forehead deepen. "We were hoping you'd remember, Commander."

You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking back. "I called for evac when we got to the platform. You," his face falls just a bit, so you try and be a bit less accusatory, "the beacon pulled you in, so I got you out. After that…"

It hits you again, like a blow to the head. The visions, the sounds, the colors and that noise. You can hear it clear as day, echoing in your memory. You shake your head at Alenko's concerned expression, hoping he'll take it for confusion, hoping he doesn't ask.

He doesn't. "It lifted you in the air, like some kind of...I don't know, like a biotic lift. It just held you there, Williams wanted to pull you out but I held her back."

"Likely a wise choice," Chakwas adds.

"A few seconds later, it dropped you, and the beacon just...overloaded, or something." He shrugs. "The glow was gone, all but the base of it blew to pieces. You were unconscious, we got you up here right away."

"Your tests are all normal, Commander," explains the doctor, sounding more than a little surprised. "Whatever the beacon did, I don't foresee any lasting consequences. There were, however," she paces over to one of her scanners, "some abnormal brain activity readings. They seem to indicate you were in a dream state, which is highly uncommon while unconscious."

She doesn't ask outright, but the question is there.

You consider telling her about...whatever it was that happened to you. The visions were obviously from the beacon, some sort of message left by the Protheans and imparted onto you. She's watching you, waiting. The admission is on the tip of your tongue, but you find yourself shaking your head, shrugging your shoulders. "I don't remember anything."

"I see." She watches you for a moment longer - she doesn't believe you - before turning away. "Well, I have nothing more to do here, Commander. I patched up a scratch on your leg, nothing serious, and as far as I'm concerned you're medically cleared for duty." She waves the sensor on the wall, opening the door to her office. "I'll go submit my report now so you can get back to work."

"Commander." Alenko's rubbing his neck, watching Chakwas leave and pointedly avoiding your eyes. "I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have gotten so close to the beacon, I must've done something to -"

"Hey," you cut him off, waving your arm. "Stop. It's no big deal, and it would've happened anyway when we tried to move it." His eyes finally meet yours and he opens his mouth to speak again, but you don't give him the chance. "Don't worry about it, Lieutenant. You didn't do anything wrong." You hold his eyes firmly until he stands down.

"I...okay, Commander. Thanks."

The door to the med bay opens, and you both turn and watch as Anderson strides in. He's not a tall man - only a bit taller than you - but it's always fascinated you how he manages to fill a room, simply by being in it.

"Good to see you awake, Shepard," he smiles, "I've missed having an XO around to do all this paperwork."

"Can't say I'm sorry I missed that," you joke, before your mouth twists in a frown. "Was I out that long?"

He shrugs, but his eyes darken, belaying the concern behind his nonchalant gesture. "About fifteen hours. Long enough to make us worried. How are you holding up?"

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, pleased to find that you aren't even dizzy - just a bit sore from the fighting. You've got a hell of a headache, but nothing you can't deal with. Probably best not to even bring it up. It'd just make him worry. "I feel fine, and Chakwas cleared me for duty."

He nods. "Good. I'm going to need you to write your report for the mission. I need to get it back to Alliance command and to the Citadel, since Nihlus is involved."

"Right." You clench your teeth as you remember. "Some shakedown, huh? I went out on a retrieval mission and came back unconscious, with two dead men and a broken beacon."

Now that you're thinking about it, your gut twists as you remember Jenkins bleeding out in front of you, Nihlus lifeless on the platform. If you'd kept a closer eye on the Corporal, if you'd gotten to the platform just a few minutes sooner…

"Stop that, now," he says sternly. "You did a good job down there, Shepard. I sent you into an unknown situation, and you did the best you could."

You nod. "I did, sir. I'm just sorry it didn't turn out better."

You knew better than most what you were signing up for when you inked your enlistment papers. You didn't go in with starry-eyed ideas of glory-filled battles and saving the universe - that kind of stuff only happens in stories. Real military life is gritty and hard and full of if-onlys, and you were crazy enough to sign up for it anyway. You know there's nothing to do but swallow it and move on.

It's what you all learn to do, eventually.

He claps your shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You know better. Just get that report done and rest up."

You nod again, thinking about your mission report and what you're going to say. Suddenly, you remember something else, and glance over at the Lieutenant. "Did Alenko tell you about what the geth were doing to the humans down there?"

"What?"

"The husks," Alenko says. He shrugs when you look at him curiously. "That's what we've sort of named them, Williams said it and it caught on."

Your bodysuit's folded at the end of your bed, and you dig around the pockets until you find the dog tags, handing them to your CO. "I pulled these off the first one we killed. It's someone from the 212. Whatever those things are, they used to be human, until the geth got to them."

Anderson takes the tags and shakes his head, studying the name engraved on their surface. "I'll get a note about this to the retrieval team. We told them about the husks, but this...complicates things. Any idea how the geth did this?"

You shrug. "I'm a soldier, not a scientist, I guarantee your guess is better than mine."

He pockets the tags and looks back at you. "Well, make sure all of this ends up in your report, as well. You'd better get started - we'll be at the Citadel in a few hours and I need you to come with me." His eyes darken. "I've requested a meeting with the Council to talk about Saren."

You don't miss the venom in his voice at the name, the way his eyes darken. Whatever their history is, it's obviously not good. Asking straight up would be out of place, so you don't bother. You nod toward your Lieutenant. "I assume Alenko filled you in on that, too?"

He nods. "Right when he got back, when we debriefed. We got an official statement from Powell, that dock worker you talked to, before leaving the planet. Hopefully that evidence will be enough for them, but I want you there to speak just in case. Saren's been a Spectre for a while, he's well respected and has a lot of pull. If he's working with the geth, well...a rogue Spectre can do a lot of damage."

Unchecked power within Council space, with the money and resources to run armies at their fingertips? A lot of damage is an understatement. "I'll do whatever you need, sir, don't worry about it."

He claps you on the shoulder. "I know you will, Shepard. Thank you."

* * *

You stand in the Council chambers at parade rest just behind Captain Anderson, taking in the view. The large, open chamber is full of sweeping architecture and massive windows, with serene garden areas dotted with flowers and small trees. The three Councillors stand on a raised platform across from you, looking down with imposing authority as Ambassador Udina summarizes the mission. Saren's holographic form stands on a transmitter off to their side.

You've never seen Saren in person, just heard stories. He's an imposing figure - tall, even for a turian, with thin, hard eyes and long, wide crests extending from his jawline. Even in holographic form, he gives off an aura of power and control that you can't help but admire. He watches the Council impassively, hands clasped behind his back.

Udina has a nasally, grating voice that instinctively makes you dislike him. You'd never met him before being introduced in his office about an hour ago, just before he launched into a tirade about how Eden Prime was a "disaster", the loss of the beacon "unacceptable". His verbal onslaught eventually shifted to the Council, as they had dismissed his request to speak further prior to the scheduled hearing. A C-Sec investigation into Saren's activities was being done, and they refused to meet until after they gave report.

You can already tell the hearing won't end well. The Councillors look bored, tired, like they're humoring your claim just so Udina stops bothering them. As much as you dislike him, you can understand his frustration.

Councillor Tevos, the asari representative, is the first to speak. "The geth attack is a matter of some concern, but there is nothing to indicate Saren was involved in any way."

Udina cocks his head to the side. "An eyewitness saw him kill Nihlus in cold blood. I'm not sure what other evidence you need."

The salarian, Valern, speaks next. "The account of one traumatized dock worker is hardly compelling proof, Ambassador. We need more than that to back an accusation of this magnitude."

"An accusation I resent greatly." Saren's voice is deep and gravelly, even for a turian. "Nihlus was a fellow Spectre and a close friend."

Anderson speaks for the first time, and though you can't see him, you can tell he's livid. "That just let you catch him with his guard down."

Saren's mandibles twitch. "Captain Anderson." His voice is sing-song, demeaning. "Why is it you always seem to be involved when humanity brings false charges against me?"

"Because apparently I'm the only one that sees through your bullshit."

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn't give Anderson a response. Instead, his eyes fix on you. You can feel the coolness of his gaze, even though he's not physically in the room. "And Commander Shepard, your young protege. I hope there's a good reason she allowed that beacon to be destroyed."

He's purposely not addressing you, but you respond anyway. "I didn't allow for the destruction of anything. It was completely out of my control."

"Spectres don't make a habit of going into situations they cannot control, Commander. And I hear you've been put forward as a Spectre candidate?" The turian shakes his head. "It's unfortunate that you're the best humanity can offer."

"Shepard's Spectre candidacy is not the point of this hearing!" Udina barks.

"This hearing _has_ no purpose, Ambassador. It is a waste of our time and that of the Council. Unless there is anything more to add?" He gestures to the three Councillors on their raised dais.

"The Citadel Security investigation has turned up no evidence to support your claim of treason," says the turian councillor, Sparatus. "Given the lack of evidence, the charges against Saren will be dropped. Is there anything you would like to add?"

Udina's voice is bitter. "You've made your decision. I won't waste my breath."

The Council members glance at one another, and come to some kind of agreement. Tevos stands tall and clasps her hands in front of her. "The Council has found no evidence of any connection between Saren Arterius and the geth attack on Eden Prime. Ambassador, your motion to have him disbarred from the Spectres is denied. This hearing is dismissed."

Saren nods. "I'm glad to see justice was served." His holograph flickers and goes dark.

Udina storms past you and Anderson, leaving you both to follow in his angry wake. "This is a disaster," he mutters. As you walk out of range of the Council chamber, he suddenly whips around on Anderson. "It was a mistake bringing you to that hearing, Captain. You have too much history with Saren. It made the Council question our motives."

"All due respect, Ambassador," you defend, "I don't think Anderson's history has anything to do with this."

"You have no room to talk," his icy grey eyes fix on you. "Saying your candidacy for the Spectres is in jeopardy is an understatement."

You can't see why that matters so much, but he's a politician. His priorities are much different than yours. To be honest, you'd forgotten that Nihlus had put your name forward until you got to the Citadel. "I think we have bigger problems to worry about than my candidacy. We can't just let Saren get away with attacking a colony like this."

"As a Spectre, he's virtually untouchable." Anderson purses his lips. "We need to expose him, but it won't be easy."

"We could start with C-Sec," you offer. "Find the lead investigator, see what they can tell us."

Udina nods, finally beginning to calm down. "I have a contact in C-Sec that can help, his name's Harkin."

Anderson grimaces. "No, I won't waste my time with him. They suspended him a month ago, drinking on the job. He won't know anything about the investigation, anyway."

Udina folds his arms across his chest. "It is not your choice, Captain, and not your problem. Shepard will be handling this. I don't want the Council using your history with Saren as an excuse to ignore anything we turn up, and if the Commander has any hope of becoming a Spectre, she needs to prove her capability."

"You can't just cut Anderson out of this investigation!"

The Captain waves you down. "The Ambassador's right. I need to step aside."

Udina unfolds his arms. "If that's settled, I have work I need to take care of. Shepard, you are able to conduct this investigation as you wish under my authority. I expect regular updates." He raises a finger in warning. "Do not mess this up."

It takes you a beat longer than it should, but eventually you nod. "Understood, Ambassador."

* * *

Partly because you don't want to follow Udina's suggestion just out of spite, but mostly because you're not feeling spending time with a drunk in some seedy bar, you don't bother trying to find Harkin. You don't like making things more trouble than they're worth.

You walk out of the elevator into C-Sec Academy, and almost run into a krogan in the middle of a confrontation with two turian officers. "I already told you," the krogan grumbles, "I'm going to kill Fist."

One of the officers folds his arms in front of him. "We can't let you do that, Wrex. We have officers at Chora's Den that will be watching for you."

He snorts. "I'd like to see you try and stop me."

He almost hits you when he turns abruptly to leave - you put your hands out and side out of his way. He glares at you with old red eyes, towering about a foot above you. "Watch it, kid."

The officers don't move to stop him from leaving. Apparently, threatening homicide isn't something they're interested in prosecuting. At least, not when the offender's a five hundred kilo krogan merc. You approach them and smile. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm trying to find one of your officers."

One of them, a tall man with red facial markings, folds his arms. "Does that officer have a name?"

You shrug. "I'm sure he does, but I don't know it. He was the lead investigator for the Saren Arterius case."

The other turian's head whips around, to see if anyone heard. He points at you with one raised finger. "Watch what you say, human. Stuff like that isn't supposed to leave this building."

"You'll want Garrus Vakarian," the first replies, mandibles twitching as he waves down his partner. "He should be in his office, but word has it he's doing a bit of...private investigating, down in the wards." He gestures behind him. "Try the med clinic."

You thank them and head down the stairs.

The med clinic is a small hole-in-the-wall of a place, you might have missed it entirely if you hadn't been actively searching for it. The door slides open quietly when you hit the switch, and you step inside.

"I didn't tell anyone, I swear!"

You pull the pistol from your belt, and take stock of the scene in front of you. The doctor - a tall red-headed woman - has her back against a table, faced by two men in red jackets. You can see her trembling from here. There's a turian crouched behind the short wall in front of you, so still you almost don't notice him. He's watching carefully, gun raised, waiting.

"That was smart, doc." One of the men circles her, tapping his fingers against his gun. "You better stay smart if C-Sec comes around, or we'll-"

Before you can slip into cover, the thug spots you. He grabs the doctor by the waist, using her as a shield as he raises your gun to you. You respond in kind, cursing your lack of armor, turning to the side to try and make yourself a smaller target.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Let her go," you say firmly, "and no one has to get hurt."

The turian takes the opportunity, moving around the parttion and firing a quick shot into the man's head. The doctor screams and ducks for cover as his body jerks back and falls to the ground.

You don't hesitate, firing two quick shots into the other thug's chest.

Satisfied that the room is clear, you cross the room and kneel down next to the doctor. She's shaking, but appears unharmed. "It's alright, you're safe now," you console her with a soft voice. "I'm Commander Shepard with the Alliance, I can make sure you're safe."

"Thank you, Commander," her voice is shaky, and heavily accented. You wonder where she's from as you help her to her feet. "Thank you."

"Commander Shepard?" The turian seems to recognize your name. He offers you a hand in introduction as he slides his rifle back into his pack. "Garrus Vakarian."

He seems young for a turian, not that you have much experience with them. He's lean and tall, blue C-Sec armor strapped to him like it belongs there. He moves with easy confidence, and exudes an aura of control that you're intimately familiar with - he's military, all right, down to the bone.

"You're the one in charge of Saren's investigation?"

His eyes darken and his mandibles flick in annoyance. "Was in charge. The Executor cut me from the case a few hours ago, wouldn't give me more time."

You grimace. "Yeah, the hearing was...bad. So you didn't find anything?"

"He's a Spectre." His flanged voice is more pronounced with his irritation. "Everything he touches is classified, I can't get anything on him. I'm not sure how they expect me to do my job when everything's all wrapped up in yellow tape." He looks around the clinic, glancing at the doctor before he continues. "I don't like Saren. Something about him doesn't sit right with me. I know he's up to something, and I can't just sit around and let him get away with it."

"So what brought you here? Who were those men?" You reach out and help the doctor to her feet.

He nods to the doctor. "Dr. Michel sent in a tip this morning, and it caught my attention."

She starts to explain, unconsciously rubbing her forehead where there'd been a gun pressed to it not so long ago. "The men work for Fist. They were trying to keep me quiet, keep me from telling Garrus about the quarian."

"Fist?" You frown, trying to figure out why that name sounds familiar.

Dr. Michel nods, and launches into her story. "A quarian girl came into the clinic a few days ago. She'd been shot, but she wouldn't tell me who did it. She was scared, probably on the run. She asked me about the Shadow Broker, and offered to trade information for a safe place to hide. I put her in contact with Fist, since he's an agent for the Broker, I thought he would help."

"Problem is," Garrus adds, "Fist doesn't work for the Broker anymore. He works for Saren."

Her thin red eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "He betrayed the Shadow Broker? That's stupid, even for him. They'll kill him for it."

You snap your fingers, remembering where you've heard the name. "There was a krogan merc at C-Sec before I came down here, said he was going to kill Fist."

Garrus nods. "Probably hired by the Broker. He doesn't take well to being double crossed." His mandibles twitch. "That quarian has information, and I'm betting it has to do with Saren. Otherwise Fist wouldn't be making such a fuss over her, and wouldn't be sending men to keep Dr. Michel quiet."

"Well, it's a start." It's not the best lead, but it's better than nothing. You shrug. "I suppose if anyone could link Saren with the geth, it'd be a quarian."

You meant it as a joke, but the doctor's eyes widen. "Geth! The quarian, she said her information had to do with the geth."

Well, that's fortuitous. "Then it sounds like we need to get to Fist." You look at Garrus. "Any ideas?"

"That krogan bounty hunter might be a good start. Did he say where he was headed?"

You try and remember, but Dr. Michel pipes in. "Fist is based out of Chora's Den, that is where I sent the quarian."

"That's where he said he was going. We'd better get moving, before Fist ends up on the wrong end of a krogan's shotgun barrel."

Garrus snorts. "I have a suspicion that might happen anyway - we just have to get there first."

* * *

"Wait!" Fist crawls backward, away from the gun you've shoved in his face. His pitiful whine is at odds with his crew cut and scarred face. You think maybe he's gotten complacent, cocky and secure in his position with the Broker. "Don't shoot me, I surrender!"

"Where's the quarian?" you snarl. There's blood dripping down your arm from where you were grazed by a stray bullet from one of Fist's thugs. Fist knew he'd been caught, and had closed the club and filled it with hired guns to protect him. Walking into a nightclub and getting shot at made you grumpy, and being stuck to cover during the ensuing fight with nothing but your service uniform and a pistol made you even grumpier.

"I don't know, I swear!"

"Listen, _Fist_," you emphasize his name. "I don't have the time or the patience to deal with your bullshit right now. Tell me where she is."

He licks his lips and avoids your eyes. "She's not here, she said she'd only talk to the Shadow Broker himself."

"That's not possible, the Shadow Broker only works through agents," Garrus says. "So where'd you send her?"

"She didn't know that, she thought I could get him to talk to her. So I set up a fake meeting, gave her a time and a place."

"And who will she find at that meeting?" He doesn't respond, just slowly moves to get to his feet, watching your gun. "Hey," you push him back down. "Answer me!"

"Well, look at that," a deep, rumbling voice says. "Looks like I almost missed the party."

Fist's face goes pale, and he shrinks back closer to the wall. You glance over at the krogan that crosses the room to stand next to you, shotgun at his recognize his red armor and deep scars.

"Wrex?"

He peers at you with dark red eyes. He growls, showing some of his teeth. "Do I know you, human?"

"Commander Shepard. I ran into you at C-Sec, heard you say you were coming to kill Fist." You nudge the thug with your toe. "Should have talked faster, big guy, now look what you've gotten yourself into."

"Please don't kill me, please," he begs. "It's Saren's guys, okay? She's got dirt on him, he wants her dead."

"Where?"

"The back alley by the markets, right close to here. She should be there now."

"So you do work for Saren, huh?" Wrex is watching Fist closely, eyeing him like a predator watching prey. "I'd tell you to send my love, but you won't make it that far."

"No, please -"

He's cut off by a single shotgun blast, and the room falls silent.

You lower your gun. "Let's get out of here." You eye the krogan, not faltering when he rests his eyes on you once again. "You have something against Saren?"

Wrex nods. "We have a history." His lip curls into a snarl - you realize it's maybe the krogan version of a smile. "I would enjoy killing him."

You smirk. "Join the club. You can come with us if you'd like, I'm interested in hearing about this history of yours. Right now, though," you leave the room as you speak, not watching to see if your companions follow, "we have a quarian to save."

* * *

The quarian girl stands alone in the middle of the hall, back straight and tall. Between her posture and the intricate colored designs on her suit, she looks almost regal. In contrast, the turian approaching her has a dark hood over his crest and a harsh, deep voice.

"Did you bring it?"

She stands her ground. "Where's the Shadow Broker? Where's Fist?" Her voice is firm and proud, heavily accented and a bit tinny from her suit.

"They'll be here." He reaches and strokes the edge of her hood with one taloned finger. You tighten your grip on your pistol. Filthy bastard.

She bats his hand away, taking a step back. "Deal's off. I know a set up when I see one."

He watches her for a moment before flicking his hand to the side - a signal to the backups you knew must be around somewhere. His hand is still moving when you raise your own fist in a signal to your companions, calling them forward. His motion doesn't go unnoticed by the quarian, either, who throws out her hand and takes off running for cover.

There's a blast, and a scream - she threw a flash-bang. The smoke hampers your view, but you take a shot at a glint of white limping through the hall, dropping the figure to the ground. Garrus and Wrex push past, shields up, and make quick work of the rest of the assassins.

They give you the all clear, and you run out into the hall, searching for the quarian. She stands from where she was hiding behind a pillar and approaches you.

"Are you alright, were you hurt?" you ask.

She shakes her head. "I'm fine, I can handle myself in a fight. Not that I don't appreciate the help," she adds hastily. "Who are you?"

"I'm Commander Shepard, with the Systems Alliance." You point over your shoulder with your thumb. "This is Garrus Vakarian, he's with C-Sec, and this is…Wrex." You'll have to come up with a better way to introduce him if he's going to be sticking around. "We're trying to find evidence to prove Saren Arterius has gone rogue, and our search led us to you."

"I am Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," she bows slightly at the waist, "and I have something you may find helpful."

* * *

"When I gave you full control over this investigation, Commander, a string of firefights through the wards was not what I had in mind."

Udina's nasally voice is scathing and irritated - though you're beginning to think that's his baseline. "It wasn't what I expected either, Ambassador, or I would have brought my guns."

He turns and glares, but Captain Anderson cuts him off before he can yell at you more. "I assume you found something, Shepard?"

You nod, and tell them the abridged version of your investigation, from when you stepped into C-Sec to when you picked up Tali. They listen in silence, and Udina's eyes begin to gleam when you mention Tali's data.

"I'd like to hear what you have to say, Miss Zorah." He's back in diplomat mode, and his voice comes out much sweeter than when he addressed you.

"I have been traveling recently, on my Pilgrimage," she begins, stepping forward from where she stood behind you. "I heard stories of geth beyond the Veil - as a quarian, that caught my interest. We track them closely, and they haven't left the homeworld in a hundred years. I tracked a patrol unit to an uncharted world out near the Terminus systems. I waited for one to separate from the rest of the unit, disabled it, and took its memory core." You notice she speaks a lot with her hands, using them for emphasis. Maybe years of living in a hard suit make that a necessity, when no one can see your face.

"I thought geth memory cores fried on deactivation," Garrus questions. "Some kind of defense mechanism."

"They do," Tali confirms with a nod, "but my people created the geth. With the right knowledge and a bit of luck, some of the data can be recovered." She pulls up her omni tool. "Most of what I found was junk, but I got part of an audio clip that, well...it's best if I just play it for you."

A familiar voice echoes through the ambassador's office. "Eden Prime was a major victory. The beacon has brought us one step closer to the Conduit."

"Saren," Anderson spits out the name like a curse. "That's all the proof we need."

"There's more," says Tali, waving him silent. "He's not working alone."

"And one step closer to the return of the Reapers." The female voice is not one you recognize, but you freeze at the last word.

_They are coming._

"You okay, Shepard?" Anderson is watching you with concern, and you lower your hand from your head. You didn't realize you'd raised it to massage your temple.

"Fine, sir, just a headache."

"I don't recognize that voice," Udina muses. "Regardless, we need to contact the Council again. This evidence is definitive. Maybe they will be able to identify that woman."

Anderson claps you on the back and smiles. "Good work, Shepard." You smile back, hoping it's convincing, but your mind's on other things.

That vision from the beacon had something to do with Reapers. You're not sure how you know it, but you can feel it. Whatever a 'Reaper' is, just the thought sends your head spinning, brings back flashes of light and pain that you're barely able to keep from overwhelming you.

Finding out who the woman is - finding out everything about what Saren's doing - just became much more important.

* * *

"This evidence is irrefutable, Ambassador," states Sparatus. The flanging of his voice seems more prominent, angrier. You think maybe this is a bit personal for him, being turian and all. "Saren will be stripped of his Spectre status, and all efforts will be made to bring him in so he can answer for his crimes."

Tevos turns to him, frowning. "I recognize the other voice. It's Matriarch Benezia."

Judging by the reactions of the other two councillors, she must be someone important. You've never heard the name, but knowing she's an asari matriarch is enough to tighten your frown.

"And the Reapers?" Anderson asks. "Do you know anything about them?"

The other two defer to the salarian, who shakes his head. "I have never heard of such a thing. However," he rubs his chin thoughtfully, "just from context the 'Conduit' has something to do with bringing them back. Back from where, though? There aren't that many unexplored areas left in the solar system."

"We don't have time for hearsay," Sparatus chides, turning back to Anderson. "We need to find Saren, and get him back to the Citadel before he can do more damage."

"Don't you think figuring out what he wants the Conduit for is probably important?"

"Frankly, no. Saren no longer has the rights or resources of a Spectre, and he is now a fugitive. He is no longer a threat to Council space, even if he is able to keep the geth at his side."

Udina punches his hand with his fist. "So send a fleet after him, stop him before he can hurt more of our colonies!"

"Humanity knew the risk of colonizing so close to the Traverse, Ambassador," says Tevos. "We will not send a fleet, risking war with the Terminus Systems, for the sake of finding one man."

"Then send us."

All five of them turn to you in surprise. You step closer to the head of the pulpit, clasping your hands behind your back. "_Normandy_ has the stealth technology required to move through the Traverse undetected, and the speed to search the area efficiently. With the help of the Council, Anderson and I can detain Saren and this Matriarch before they can do any more harm."

You lock eyes with Councillor Tevos, who watches you back with curious green eyes. "Unfortunately, the SSV _Normandy_ is an Alliance ship, and we do not have the proper jurisdiction to remove her from your fleet." She visibly hesitates before turning to Sparatus, the question in her voice obvious. "There is, however, a way to circumvent that."

He blanches at whatever it is she's suggesting. "No. Absolutely not."

"It does seem to be the best solution," muses Valern. "This was the planned outcome of the Eden Prime mission anyway, and it would allow this matter with Saren to be brought to a close without further conflict."

Planned outcome? What -

Anderson's hand suddenly appears at the small of your back, gently ushering you forward until you stand alone at the front of the stand. You stand proudly in parade rest, but your heart is pounding and you have no idea what the hell is going on.

The Councillors reach an unspoken agreement, tapping at their HI units before straightening and looking down on you.

Tevos folds her hands behind her as she speaks, letting her voice carry throughout the chamber. "Members of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch are not trained, but chosen. They are forged in the fire of service and battle, selected from those individuals whose actions elevate them above the rank and file. Spectres are an idea, a symbol, the embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They bear a great burden, as they are protectors of galactic peace, serving as both the first and last lines of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold."

Oh. _Oh_.

"Lieutenant Commander Jennifer Shepard," the asari's eyes lock on yours again, "it is the will of this Council that you be granted all powers and privileges associated with membership in the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel. Do you accept?"

You have the urge to salute, as if this were a military ceremony, but something tells you that wouldn't be appropriate. You settle for a rough bow. "I'd be honored, Councillors." You're a bit surprised at how confident your voice is, how loud it seems in the large chamber.

A light smile plays at the corners of her eyes. "You are the first human Spectre, Commander. This is a great accomplishment for you and for your kind."

"We're sending you into the Traverse, after Saren. You are authorized to use any means you deem appropriate to apprehend him." Valern gestures to Udina. "We will forward any relevant files to Ambassador Udina, and we will be working with him and the Alliance to procure you a vessel and crew so that you can begin work as soon as possible."

You frown when the words sink in. "I can't stay with the _Normandy_?"

"The _Normandy_ is an Alliance vessel, not the Council's," Sparatus answers. "You may stay on the ship only if the Alliance allows it."

"Understood, Councillor."

"This meeting of the Council is adjourned. Commander, we will be in touch."

You turn to find Anderson grinning at you proudly. You feel a smile tugging at your own lips as you look away, taking his outstretched hand. "Congratulations, Shepard."

It starts to sink in. When Nihlus mentioned he'd put forward your name you felt honored, but it didn't feel real. Then there was the mission, this mess with Saren..you never really thought you'd actually become a Spectre.

And now here you are.

Anderson...he's always been there for you. He was there when you enlisted, and again when you left OCS. He put your name in for ICT and was there when you made N7. Shaking his hand now, seeing the pride in his eyes...a warm tingling spreads through your chest. This is real.

Of course, Udina is there to ruin the moment. "We need to start making arrangements immediately. You need a ship, a crew, supplies…"

"Let her have the _Normandy_, Ambassador."

Both of you look at Anderson in shock, and reply in unison. "_What_?"

"Like she already told the Council - it's the perfect ship for this mission, and she already knows the crew. Arranging for something else could take weeks, and we don't have the luxury of more time."

"Captain, no, I can't...what about you? I can't take your ship."

"You're not taking anything from me." His voice is resolute, his dark eyes firm. You know he's made his choice, as much as you don't like it. "I'm giving it to you. It's my own choice."

It feels wrong. The _Normandy_ is Anderson's ship, it has been from the start. More importantly, it's his crew - he hand picked everyone, created his own team, and over the course of a few weeks turned you into the best damn crew in the fleet. Taking that away from him...it's all wrong. This isn't how you wanted to take command of your first ship.

He must see your emotions written on your face, because he reaches out and grabs your shoulder. "You deserve this, Shepard. You know I wouldn't trust that ship to anyone else but you."

You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his dark eyes. "It won't be the same without you, sir."

"That's true, but Joker will probably sleep easier knowing I'm not there to breathe down his neck."

You can't help but smile. "Yeah, until he realizes I'm even worse."

He squeezes your arm and lets go, chuckling under his breath.

"Well, it seems we have some work to do," Udina drones. "Anderson, I'll need you to come with me to make the requisite calls and arrangements. We'll have to meet with Rear Admiral Mikhailovich, since you won't be joining his flotilla any longer -"

You tune him out. The logistics probably should be important to you, but you can't find yourself to care. If you're taking this ship and going after Saren, there's things you need to do - like figure out where you're going. The Council offered you information, but you have your own contacts that might have some ideas.

"Ambassador," you cut in, ignoring the look of indignation that flashes through his eyes at the interruption, "since the _Normandy_ will be my ship, I have unrestricted control over who I choose to serve on the crew, correct?"

"Well, yes, I suppose, but you will already have a crew -"

"I'm not looking to make replacements, don't worry," you smile, "just some additions."

You just hope you get to see his face when he finds out none of the three 'additions' you're planning are human.

* * *

**A/N: **I want to apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I've had it written for a while, but it just wasn't sitting well with me - it's like 90% dialogue, and that's definitely not the composition I envisioned when I started planning this story. I did some more editing and decided to just go for it anyway, because I'm getting antsy to write new things and move forward. Hopefully the next chapter comes more easily. I have a feeling you guys will really like some of what I have planned!

As always, thank you so much for reading. You don't know how much it means to me.


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